Fic­tion

The Last Time We Saw Her

  • Review
By – June 15, 2026

In Jaclyn Goldis’s fourth thriller, The Last Time We Saw Her, a group of teenagers go on a her­itage trip in the Azores, an iso­lat­ed island in Por­tu­gal once the home to cryp­to Jews who fled Spain dur­ing the inqui­si­tion. Just pri­or to their trip, the teenagers dis­cov­er that there’s sup­pos­ed­ly a trea­sure on the island dat­ing back to its ear­ly Jew­ish set­tlers. After they arrive, one of the campers is mur­dered; her sis­ter is impli­cat­ed, albeit not charged with the mur­der, and all of their lives are irrev­o­ca­bly altered after that moment. Ten years lat­er, they all return to the island to film a doc­u­men­tary about what hap­pened and to hope­ful­ly get to the truth. 

It’s a thrilling premise, one that Gold­is explores bril­liant­ly. Her prose is quick and wit­ty, switch­ing between the points of view of the dif­fer­ent once-teenagers-now-doc­u­men­tary-par­tic­i­pants as they each suss out the oth­ers’ secrets and inten­tions. Friend­ships break down, alliances are built, and every­one just keeps get­ting in every­one else’s way.

The research that Gold­is put into the nov­el shines through in fas­ci­nat­ing ways. She rich­ly explores the lega­cy that the Inqui­si­tion had on this sec­tion of Por­tu­gal and the Jews that, cen­turies lat­er, sur­vived. There are notes of gen­er­a­tional trau­ma, sto­ries of resilience. Per­haps most impres­sive is how Gold­is takes this sec­tion of his­to­ry and splices it into the present-day plot points of her thriller. The trea­sure is only avail­able because of the Jew­ish his­to­ry with the land; the clues that point the char­ac­ters toward the trea­sure and the iden­ti­ty of the killer are them­selves soaked in that his­to­ry. It spot­lights Sephardic ances­try in a way that feels authen­tic to both the land and the sto­ry being told.

There are some ele­ments of the story’s struc­ture that leave a bit to be desired. Sev­er­al of the voic­es that tell the sto­ry end up sound­ing very sim­i­lar; with hints of snark and depres­sive tones, each one holds them­selves back both from the read­er and from the oth­ers in the book. At times, this makes it chal­leng­ing to keep track of the char­ac­ters’ rela­tion­ships and their per­son­al backstories.

Addi­tion­al­ly, the shuf­fling per­spec­tives and the length of each one some­times leads to cer­tain plot points being washed over in sum­ma­ry, which in turn sucks some ten­sion out of the nov­el. Some potent­ly dra­mat­ic moments are told from per­spec­tives that evi­dent­ly have less at stake in the moment.

Nev­er­the­less, Gold­is suc­ceeds on the whole in writ­ing a strong thriller. It is stacked with many unex­pect­ed twists and turns, and the char­ac­ters each are cast in thick, rea­son­able sus­pi­cion. The lay­ers of Sephardic his­to­ry also make this nov­el a stand­out among oth­er mod­ern-day thrillers.

Ben­jamin Selesnick is a psy­chother­a­pist in New Jer­sey. His writ­ing has appeared in Bare­ly South ReviewLunch Tick­etTel Aviv Review of Books, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. He holds an MFA in fic­tion from Rut­gers University-Newark.

Discussion Questions